


The Rebirth of Bilbo Baggins

by Starkindler



Series: Rebirth [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Bilbo/Kíli, Gen, M/M, Off-screen Character Death, Past Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-20
Updated: 2013-06-20
Packaged: 2017-12-15 15:30:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkindler/pseuds/Starkindler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bilbo died in the Battle of the Five Armies, that was the last they thought they'd ever see of their burglar. Fortunately, Bilbo Baggins had other thoughts on the matter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/3651.html?thread=7124803#t7124803) on the HKM.

For as long as young Robin could remember, his name felt odd. Like it belonged to someone else, and his own name had been put aside. He would answer to it whenever called by his parents and family, but it never felt right. But he loved his parents, and if that was what they wanted to call him, then he would be fine with it, until he could find out what his true name was.

 

And then at six years old, his parents were killed in an accident. They were out on business, and two older Hobbit children playing a prank on another caused a team of horses drawing a wagon to spook, and his parents and a few others were unable to get out of the way in time because of the crowds. It had left Robin an orphan lost in a sea of Took relatives.

 

It was shortly after his parents' deaths that the dreams and flashes of memory began. He would dream of far off places: a very large home that sat against a mountain backdrop, surrounded by waterfalls, and it made him feel safe and eased his heart; the dark halls of a cave that was surrounded by a dreary, enchanted wood; a small, pleasant home filled with animals; a town that sat on top of an enormous lake; but most of all, his dreams were about a single mountain in the distance and of the great halls underneath.

 

He also dreamt of people. There were tall ones with pointed ears, long hair, and kind eyes. There were Men, like the ones he'd seen in Bree, but Robin knew they were farther off. A tall, old man in grey robes and a pointed hat, carrying a large stick. And many of a folk that were a bit taller than the average Hobbit, many with long hair and all with beards, several of them with both braided in odd fashions.

 

Of the last, some of them had names, in his dreams. He dreamt of ones named Bofur, and Fíli, and Kíli, and Ori, and Bombur, and Balin and Dwalin... and Thorin. There were others as well, but these were the most frequent. The dreams of them were often pleasant, of smiles and laughter, of plates flying through the air and silly songs, and sometimes the sweet, sad sounds of other songs that made Robin's young heart long for adventure.

 

And still there were other dreams. These were not so pleasant. He dreamt of fire and large animals with matted fur and long teeth. Of a large, pale monster with scars upon its body and a metal claw for a hand. Of a creepy Hobbit-sized creature with big eyes and few teeth, that spent most of its time talking to itself. Of spiders that towered over him, long-fanged and ugly, that hissed and bit and spit venom. Of clinging to barrels for dear life in cold, cold water.

 

Of yellow, lizard-like eyes, hard scales, of heat and the stench of sulfur and a voice like honey.

 

At first, they were only in his dreams. But not long after his eighth birthday, memories of those times and others began assaulting him during his waking hours. He began knowing things he should not know, had not even begun to study. He began to know faces as other Hobbits came through for visits, people who seemed familiar but that he could never remember meeting.

 

But he kept it all to himself, not wanting to seem odd to anyone else, especially since many would look at him and whisper about how uncanny it was that he resembled another who went off years ago and never returned.

 

And then his eleventh birthday came, and with it, a rather hurtful confrontation with some of his more jealous cousins, who had enough of their parents giving some young foundling the attention that they craved and deserved, because there were too many of them as it was.

 

They hurt him. Not in body but in spirit, whispering cruel words as only a child with no concept of the damage they're inflicting could do. They made certain he knew his presence wasn't a welcome one.

 

And as a child would sometimes do when faced with such hateful and hurtful words, he ran and cried, and then resolved that if he was so unwanted, then he would run away to someone who wanted him, who would welcome him. He would go to that single mountain in far off places, where he knew he would find those with the long hair and the beards and the laughter and smiling faces.

 

He gathered his things quietly over several days. Packing his clothes and most precious possessions in his pack, stealing a bedroll and sneaking foods to put in his wagon. He hid all these things away in a corner of the barn, stealing money, the map the Tooks had secreted away, and matches the last thing before heading out, while the others were sleeping.

 

And with that, he threw off the name of Robin, which he never liked anyway, and went off into the night, passing through the woods of Tookland in a few days, hiding carefully during the day even when no one was around, and halting when he knew he was close to the Brandywine Bridge. He hid and slept, though dawn was still an hour or two off, waiting for dark again, because he knew if they found him, they would send him back.

 

Once darkness fell and all were asleep, he crossed the bridge and left the Shire, intent to get back home.

 

To Erebor.


	2. An Unexpected Companion

Gandalf stared off into the distance at the small town of Bree. It was the closest he'd come to the Shire since Bilbo's death in Erebor. He had been correct when he told Thorin that he would fail without the Hobbit, but he'd never truly thought that Bilbo would fall while the rest survived.

 

The grief that had hit him upon seeing Thorin stumble into the healing camps, tears streaming down his face, which was twisted in grief so strong no voice could be made for it, as he held the lifeless body of their burglar to his chest, had ripped into Gandalf's very soul. Like the others who witnessed it, he had fallen to his knees and cried long and hard.

 

Having to be the ones who told Fíli and Kíli once they woke, because Thorin could not find the words in his grief, was one of the hardest things Gandalf had ever had to do. By then, Bilbo's broken body had been interred in a tomb in the Halls of Kings.

 

Fíli and Kíli still hadn't recovered from the loss of their dear friend.

 

Shaking off the memories, Gandalf steeled himself to go into Bree, knowing the sight of the Hobbits that lived there would cut into him like an Elven blade. He only made it a few steps when off to his right, he heard a thump and a tiny, lilting voice say "Ow!"

 

Rushing over in the direction of the voice, he stopped short when he saw a tiny Hobbit sitting on the ground, rubbing his leg as he glared at his little wagon.

 

"Hello," Gandalf said, smiling softly at the young Hobbit when he startled and looked up at him.

 

A light of recognition popped into the eyes of the young Hobbit and he smiled widely. "Hello, Gandalf! Can you help me? My wagon is stuck and I can't get it out."

 

Gandalf moved closer and lifted the wagon out of the hole the front left wheel had fallen into. "How do you know my name? And what in the world are you doing so far out of the Shire? Won't your parents be looking for you? What's your name?"

 

The little Hobbit frowned. "My parents died years ago, and my relatives don't care about me. I know you. You brought the Dwarves, and they threw my plates and ate my food, and sang songs, but I don't remember where that was." Then he looked at Gandalf sadly. "They called me Robin Took, but that's not right. It's not my name but I can't remember what it is. I lost it."

 

Gandalf leaned heavily on his staff as his knees gave out on him, tears filling his eyes as he sent prayers of thanks to the heavens that the rumors about Hobbits being reborn from time to time were true. For now that he looked closely, he knew that this was indeed the boy he'd known when Belladonna and Bungo were still alive. "You, my dearest Hobbit, are Bilbo Baggins of Bag End. And you have no idea just how good it is to see you again."

 

Bilbo grinned and shot up, not hesitating as he ran and threw himself into Gandalf's open arms as only a small child could. "That's it! That's my name! Thank you, Gandalf!"

 

Gandalf held him tight, the tears falling down his face. "You are most welcome, my boy."

 

They held onto each other for long, and finally Gandalf pulled back slightly. "Well, let me get a good look at you."

 

Bilbo, to his eyes, looked cheerful and well cared for. While he showed no outward signs of abuse, Gandalf did not doubt that at the least, he was not getting the love the young child desired and needed, likely because the family he was charged to was so big and they were more focused on their own children.

 

He smiled at Bilbo. "Well, you're looking well, Master Baggins. But tell me, where in the world are you headed? You're very young to be wandering about in the wilderness all by yourself."

 

Bilbo sighed and looked off in the direction he'd been traveling. "I was heading to Erebor. I'm not sure where that is, but I do know where the Elves are, and I thought maybe they could help me." Bilbo leaned over his wagon and pulled out a map. "See? If I follow this road, I could find Rivendell, or at least an Elf." He held it up in his tiny hands, and the parchment was almost bigger than he was.

 

"So I see," Gandalf said with amusement. His heart felt lighter and more unburdened than it had felt in far too long, and it was all he could do not to burst into laughter.

 

After Bilbo's death, the Ring had come to him, and he and Elrond had easily discovered its true nature. After a long word with the Eagles, Gwaihir had agreed to take Gandalf to Mordor, let him destroy the Ring – especially after hearing the bearer of it, the cute little Hobbit fellow, was killed with it in his possession – and bring him back to the Mountains. There were still many dark things lurking in Middle-Earth, but Sauron at the least was gone for good, his only chance for power destroyed.

 

Erebor and Dale were still being reconstructed, but both were doing well enough. They were certainly safe enough for a tiny Hobbit, and there were thirteen Dwarrows he knew would shower him with the love and affection he didn't seem to be getting in the Shire. "Would you like me to help you get there?" he asked, only feeling a little guilty for the pain of those in the Shire who no doubt searched for the boy. But he put it aside. If they had been giving him the attention he needed, Bilbo wouldn't have gotten this far on his own.

 

Bilbo's face lit up and he dropped his map on the ground to wrap his arms around Gandalf's neck. "Would you? I really want to go home. I miss Bofur. And Fíli. And Kíli. And Ori."

 

Gandalf chuckled as he rattled off the entire list of his companions. "I know they miss you a great deal as well. But we're going to need a few more supplies if we're going to Rivendell. It's still quite a long way."

 

Bilbo bit his bottom lip. "But what if they try to take me away in Bree? I don't want to go back to the Shire. They look at me funny and they talk about me like I don't know what they're doing."

 

That was certainly a possibility. But if Bilbo managed to get out of the Shire and past Bree without a problem, there was an easy enough solution. "Well, why don't we find you a safe spot close to the town where you can hide, and I'll run in and get some of the things we need? It will only take me about an hour at the most, and then we'll be on our way."

 

Bilbo thought about it and nodded. "Okay. But what about my wagon?"

 

"We'll leave it here, and cover it up with brush, and we'll pick it up on the way back," Gandalf said, hiding the little wagon away and picking Bilbo up easily to carry him.

 

It wasn't far to Bree, no more than half an hour's walk, and he found a safe place for Bilbo to hide. Then he rushed into the town and quickly purchased two horses and a cart, as well as enough supplies to care for a tiny Hobbit with a hearty appetite. Enough gold thrown about got him everything he needed in less than half an hour, and by the time an hour had passed, he and Bilbo had picked up his little wagon and were on their way to Rivendell.

 

~*~

 

On the twelfth night they came upon the old farmhouse that they had stayed near during the quest. Gandalf set up their camp and watched as Bilbo looked around curiously, with a slight frown on his face. Throughout the last twelve days, Gandalf had noticed that memories came sporadically, and little things could trigger a remembrance for the Hobbit.

 

"I've been here before," Bilbo said as he fixed the ring of rocks that signified where many a traveler had built fires before. Most were intact in the circle, but a few had fallen by the wayside, likely from careless feet and hooves.

 

"Yes, you were," Gandalf murmured. "We both were. Come, we need to find some wood."

 

Bilbo followed along willingly enough, picking up tiny pieces of wood for kindling while Gandalf picked up larger pieces. It had not rained in the area for a few weeks, and the wood on the ground was dried.

 

"Gandalf! Look!" Bilbo cried, running forward and quickly out of sight.

 

Unworried because he knew exactly where Bilbo had gone, he followed behind, smiling when he saw Bilbo standing between the three in awe.

 

"One was named Bert," Bilbo said, looking between the three. "And another Tom. They stole our ponies. Fíli and Kíli sent me to fetch them, and I got caught."

 

"Yes, you did," Gandalf said, chuckling. "So did the Dwarrows. But you, my boy, were quite quick in your thinking and saved the day."

 

"Uh-uh," Bilbo said, shaking his head. "That was you. You broke that rock over there and the sun turned them to stone!"

 

"True, but if you had not stalled them quite handily, it is likely many of the Dwarrows would have suffered greatly."

 

Bilbo stepped forward cautiously and poked at one of the stone Trolls, jumping back quickly and then sticking his tongue out at it when it didn't move.

 

Chuckling, Gandalf said, "Come, Bilbo. Let's build a fire and then I'll make us a nice ham and vegetable stew."

 

Bilbo whooped and ran back towards camp, picking up his little bundle along the way. When Gandalf approached, he had dropped his bundle of kindling next to the fire pit and was tugging the pot from the back of their wagon.

 

Shaking his head, Gandalf began setting up the fire, humming a bouncy tune under his breath, not realizing what it was until Bilbo began to sing in his lilting voice:

 

_"Cut the cloth, tread on the fat,_

_Leave the bones on the bedroom mat,_

_Pour the milk on the pantry floor,_

_Splash the wine on every door."_

 

Gandalf chuckled. "You do remember that song then?" he asked, watching Bilbo trudge over, his tiny hands gripping the handle of the pot that was nearly half his size.

 

"Yes. Bofur liked to sing it at me. Did it lots of times," Bilbo replied, setting the pot near Gandalf and smiling triumphantly. He did so love to help out, and often the making of dinner was a dual effort.

 

"Thank you. Now, why don't you find us about six potatoes and two carrots, while I start the fire. Don't mess with the knives, though!"

 

"I won't, Gandalf," Bilbo said, running back to the wagon and crawling inside.

 

Smiling to himself, Gandalf went about setting up the fire and then starting it easily. They could have been much farther along already, what with them riding on the wagon and Gandalf's little need for much sleep, but he found himself loathe to go too quickly. Having Bilbo back was a balm on his soul, and he found the child's company pleasant. He was so curious, asking about everything they saw, asking questions about the Elves... Talking to him for any length of time, after knowing the adult version, he could tell there were many very large gaps in his memory. But Gandalf also thought that they would return in time.

 

Once the fire was going, he found the knives, the ham, and a few herbs and other vegetables, while Bilbo carried the others over to the pot. Gandalf also found the board they used to cut their food on and sat down close to the pot and began working. "Can you put some water into the pot, Bilbo? About half-way should do it."

 

Nodding, Bilbo ran back over to the wagon and pulled out two water skins. They had filled all their skins at the stream they'd passed several miles back. Gandalf peeled and cut up the potatoes, watching Bilbo as he carefully set the skins down and then proceeded to remove the cap of one and tilt it so the water poured into the pot until it was empty. Then he did the same with the other, pouring only about half of it before he was satisfied that it was halfway filled. "Done, Gandalf!" he said excitedly as he put the cap back on the skin.

 

"Thank you, my boy." He handed over a plate with cut up potatoes. "Put these in there, and mind the splash.

 

Bilbo did as he asked and then watched patiently as Gandalf sliced the carrots and onion, putting each in when Gandalf refilled the plate. "Do you think the Dwarves will still like me? I know I'm not the same."

 

"Believe me, Bilbo, they will love you. You have no idea how much you have been missed. You will be welcomed back in such a way that you will feel like their greatest treasure. None of them have been the same since you went away," Gandalf told him as he finished dicing up the ham.

 

"Now, how do you feel about a few mushrooms?" he asked, trying to hide his grin, because he knew the answer very well.

 

"Yes, please!" Bilbo said, hopping in his excitement. "I love mushrooms!"

 

"I know you do. It's why I bought a big batch back in Bree." They were simple enough to do, rinsing them thoroughly, cutting the stems first and then slicing the caps in quarters. Soon enough ham and mushrooms were in the stew, and he was setting up the pot so it hung over the fire, close enough for it to cook.

 

"So tell me, Bilbo, do you remember Lord Elrond?" he asked casually as he began adding herbs and spices, careful not to overdo it for the little Hobbit's stomach.

 

"I think so. He was tall, and had pointed ears, and long, dark hair, I think," Bilbo said as he sat down on his bed roll. "He was nice, but Thorin didn't like him. Thorin was very cranky when we were in Rivendell."

 

Gandalf chuckled. "Yes, he was. Thorin's crankiness towards Elves has diminished somewhat, though he and Thranduil often end up glaring at one another and yelling anytime they come together. Thranduil often sends his son to deal with Thorin, because at least he finds Legolas somewhat acceptable. Glóin's son, Gimli, has taken quite a shine to him. Glóin has no idea what to make of it, but I myself have found it highly amusing."

 

Bilbo giggled. "Is he sweet on Legolas like Drogo was sweet on my cousin Primula? They got married! Do you think Gimli will marry Legolas? Will they live in Erebor and have lots of babies like Primula wants babies?"

 

Smiling brightly, Gandalf said, "When we get there, why don't you ask Glóin? I'm sure he'd love to hear what you think about it and answer all your questions."

 

"All right," Bilbo said, rubbing his stomach. "Can I have a roll, Gandalf? I'm really hungry."

 

"Of course. Would you like a bit of honey in it?" he asked as he wandered over to the wagon.

 

"Yes, please."

 

Gandalf chuckled and shook his head. The Dwarrows of Erebor were going to have their hands full with this little one.

 


	3. The Last Homely House

By evening two days later, they had reached Imladris, one of the last great Elven realms of Middle-Earth. The power in the land was somewhat diminished as the three Elven Rings' power faded with the destruction of the One, but it was still one of the great safe havens throughout the lands, and would remain so until Elrond and his people chose to leave Middle-Earth for Valinor.

 

Gandalf couldn't help but feel relieved when the house came into sight, and they were greeted by two Elves who offered to take their horses and wagon to the stables, leaving them to cross over the bridge to the house itself, after promising to bring their belongings as soon as the horses were cared for. He hadn't expected to run into trouble, for it had been rather peaceful since the Ring's destruction and the Orcs and other evil beings were lying low, but one never could be too careful. There was another power brewing somewhere, though Gandalf wasn't sure where, and it was something to keep a watchful eye on.

 

But they were safe within the borders of Rivendell now, and it was with a light heart that Gandalf crossed over the bridge, carrying Bilbo and holding on to the far too curious Hobbit tightly as he tried to peer over the edge to the drop below, and he made a mental note to place a bet with some of the Dwarrows as to which of the company would have heart failure first when Bilbo tried the same thing on the pathways of Erebor.

 

He had the distinct feeling that Bilbo was going to have to relearn how to walk at some point, because he doubted most of them would let him walk on his own for quite some time after he arrived.

 

As they reached the other side, Gandalf smiled as Elrond moved gracefully down the stairs, Glorfindel and Erestor directly behind him. "Mae govannen, Mithrandir!" he said, laying his hand over his heart briefly.

 

"My Lord Elrond," Gandalf said, bowing slightly. "I know you were not expecting me back so soon, but I found an adventurer who was coming to seek your aid."

 

"And who is this little adventurer?" Elrond asked, looking at Bilbo curiously.

 

Bilbo, for his part, was looking back just as curiously, recognition lighting up his eyes. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service."

 

Elrond's eyes grew wide and darted over to Gandalf's. "Truly? He speaks the truth?" he asked, slipping into the Elven tongue.

 

"He does," Gandalf replied in kind. "I will tell you what I know later, after he goes to bed." Switching back to the Common Tongue, he said to Bilbo, "This is Lord Glorfindel and Lord Erestor."

 

Bilbo waved and then tucked his face into Gandalf's beard, peeking at the other two Elves shyly.

 

Elrond couldn't help but smile at the sweet picture the young Hobbit made. He had enjoyed the time Bilbo had spent in Imladris, even though it was only two weeks, and the news of his death had pained him greatly. How he came to be here now, he knew not, but he was not going to take such a gift from the Valar for granted. "And what can I do for you, Master Bilbo?" he asked.

 

"I want to go home," Bilbo replied, lifting his head to gaze at Elrond.

 

Elrond frowned slightly. He knew the route that Gandalf took when he left, and he had to have been close to the Shire when he found the young Halfling. "And where is home?"

 

"Erebor. I miss my family."

 

"He wants to go home to his Company," Gandalf said, rubbing Bilbo's back as he laid his head back down and sniffled slightly. "He talks about them a great deal, and keeps saying he wants to go home."

 

Elrond's heart broke a little for the Halfling. "Then home is where we shall take him," Elrond said. "Come. Let's us sit down for dinner and have a good night's sleep, and tomorrow we will discuss the fastest and safest path to get you back to where you belong."

 

Bilbo looked at him, eyes shining with tears, and then he reached for Elrond to take him.

 

Elrond gladly took Bilbo in his arms and cuddled him close. It had been many years since he'd had young ones as small as this in Imladris. "We have fish tonight. If you don't like fish, I believe there is roasted beef as well."

 

"I like fish," Bilbo said, looking at him with narrowed eyes. "When I was here last time, you didn't serve meats."

 

Elrond chuckled. "That's because the cranky Dwarrows annoyed me, and so I decided to annoy them back," he replied, sharing a look with Gandalf when Bilbo giggled.

 

Glorfindel laughed. "I wish I were here to see that. Tell me, Master Baggins, how would you like to go berry picking with me and Erestor tomorrow?"

 

Bilbo looked over at Gandalf, hope filling his eyes. "Can I, Gandalf? I haven't been berry picking since Mum and Dad..."

 

"I don't see why not. Pick a lot, and perhaps we can take some with us when we leave for Erebor," Gandalf said, smiling brightly at the boy when the shadow of pain at the loss of his parents started to drift across his face.

 

He was also loathe to tell Bilbo 'no' for anything, especially berry picking. He really didn't like the idea of Bilbo being out of his sight at all, but that had more to do with the events of the past than anything, and he was going to have to learn to let go, because Bilbo wanted to stay in Erebor, and as much as Gandalf would like to stay right along with him, he had business all across Middle-Earth. And that was not a life for a Hobbit child.

 

It did not mean, however, that he would not be visiting and making a nuisance of himself every chance he had.

 

"We'll have the kitchens make you some preserves that will last you for some time," Elrond said, pressing a kiss to Bilbo's temple. "Come, let's get you into a bath, and I do believe there are some clothes still lying around from when Estel was a young boy that would fit you quite well."

 

"I haven't had a bath in..." Bilbo paused for a moment as he thought about it.

 

"Far too many days, obviously," Gandalf said with a chuckle.

 

"Then you definitely need one," Elrond replied as he started up the stairs and heading directly toward his own rooms. "Glorfindel, if you would see about those clothes and bring them into my room?"

 

"Of course, My Lord," Glorfindel said, he and Erestor walking away swiftly, chattering excitedly in Sindarin about how it was possible that Bilbo had returned.

 

Elrond carried Bilbo up to his rooms and into the bathing room. "Gandalf, can you help him with his clothing while I fill the tub?"

 

Gandalf nodded and took Bilbo from Elrond's arms, smiling warmly at him. "Let's get you all cleaned up, and looking like the adorable little Hobbit I know you are, under all that dirt," he said, tickling Bilbo's sides.

 

Bilbo giggled and squirmed, and then began unbuttoning his own shirt when Gandalf put him down. Gandalf knelt down and helped him with the bottom buttons.

 

Elrond smiled at the two and began drawing the bath, making certain it wasn't too hot for delicate skin, and he added some bath soaps that would make the bubbles that his boys loved so dearly when they were Bilbo's age.

 

"Ready!" Bilbo chirped next to him, and Elrond picked the boy up, depositing him in the tub, turning it off once it was up to Bilbo's waist.

 

He chuckled when the boy splashed and water and bubbles flew up in his face.

 

"Oh! Sorry!" Bilbo said, smiling sheepishly.

 

"You play as much as you like," Elrond said, stroking his tumble of curls. "A little water never hurt me, and my sons and daughter used to do much worse when they were little."

 

Gandalf and Elrond stood and moved off to the side, while Bilbo played in the bath. "He seems healthy and strong," Elrond said. "He was obviously well cared for in the Shire."

 

Humming, Gandalf nodded. "Yes, but from what I've gathered, after his parents' deaths, he did not feel that well loved. The Tooks tend to have large families, and well, a child that is not their own may get less attention and affection than one that is theirs. That was the case, from what I can decipher from Bilbo's chatter."

 

"You do not think they went looking for him?" Elrond asked with a frown.

 

"I'm certain they did, but he also managed to get to the other side of Bree with no one noticing him. While he is resourceful, he is also still a little boy. Someone should have found him, if they were looking hard enough," Gandalf murmured. "It is a long way from Tuckborough to Bree, especially for a tiny boy on foot."

 

"And you think he will do better with the Dwarrows of Erebor?" Elrond asked, his expression darkening. "Thranduil told me of how Thorin had treated him at the last."

 

"He also grieved the hardest for his loss. Thorin was ill with the dragon sickness at the time, and hurt by Bilbo's actions. I have no doubt that Thorin held great affection for our little Hobbit, considered him part of the family. Given the chance to atone, he would do anything and everything to make his new life a good one. He would have atoned for his actions after the battle, had Bilbo lived."

 

Glorfindel stepped into the bathing room, smiling as the little Hobbit looked up at him curiously and then grinned. "I have Estel's clothing here, all that we could find," he said, dropping the pile into Elrond's outstretched arms.

 

Then he turned to Bilbo and held out a wooden ship and a small wooden duck whose paint was only chipped in a few places. "And I found these for your bath."

 

"Thank you," Bilbo said, taking the toys from him and going back to his playing, chattering to himself and the little duck.

 

Glorfindel moved back to Elrond. "We also found some more of Estel's toys. We've put them in the guest chamber that Gandalf usually uses." He glanced over at Gandalf. "I guessed he would be staying with you in the evening."

 

Gandalf nodded. "Yes, he will be. I am...reluctant to have him out of my sight. I'm certain you understand."

 

"I understand him more, I'd wager," Glorfindel said, looking at the Hobbit. "Coming back is...confusing at times, especially when memories begin to return. It seems though that he is getting his memories back more quickly than I did. I was closer to adulthood when my memories began to return."

 

"Luckily, with the exception of the last months of his life, his life was rather normal for a Hobbit, and won't be too traumatic," Gandalf said. "So far, it seems that most of the bad things that happened during those months are nothing more than brief flashes."

 

"In what way?" Elrond asked him.

 

"He remembers heat, yellow eyes, scales, and a sweet, charmed voice, but he doesn't remember Smaug specifically. He remembers spiders, but not the events they were a part of. He remembers a pale Orc with a fork for a hand, but he does not remember saving Thorin, either time, or that Azog was responsible for his death." Gandalf sighed. "Fortunately, what he remembers mostly is his Dwarrows, all the good things about them and their time together. He remembers that he loved them very much."

 

"At least he will be comfortable with them when he returns to Erebor," Elrond murmured.

 

Gandalf chuckled. "When I mentioned the friendship between Glóin's son, Gimli, and Legolas, he asked me if they were going to marry and have babies."

 

Glorfindel burst into laughter. "Oh, to be a fly on the wall when he asks this Glóin about that," he said, shaking his head. "Erestor is seeing about dinner, and is setting up a chair that will work well for Bilbo."

 

Elrond nodded. "I also want to see about having some clothing made for Bilbo before we go. The nights through the Mountain will be cool, and he needs some warmer clothes than what he likely has."

 

"I don't think a week here in Rivendell will hurt anything," Gandalf said, picking through the clothes in Elrond's hands. "I think these will do well for tonight."

 

Elrond took them from his hands and handed him the pile. "You should go and refresh yourself, Gandalf. I'll give him a good scrubbing, and we will meet you down in the dining hall."

 

Gandalf nodded, leaving Bilbo with Elrond with only a little reluctance. If there was anyone besides the Dwarves who would care for Bilbo, it would the the Lord of Imladris.

 

~*~

 

Gandalf took one more look at Bilbo, who was laying in the bed that looked enormous, engulfing the tiny child. He was sound asleep, and his mind was calm. Knowing at least here, in Imladris, Bilbo would have peace, Gandalf moved onto the balcony and over to the table where Elrond was sitting. Another Elf was pouring wine for them all.

 

All being Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Elrond's twin sons. All of them had been completely charmed by Bilbo, as had Aragorn, who had remembered him, though he had only been a child of ten when he'd met the Hobbit briefly. Aragorn and the twins had decided at dinner that they would be horning into Glorfindel and Erestor's berry trip the next day, much to the elder Elves' dismay, and Gandalf and Elrond's amusement.

 

Once the other Elf had left, and they had spent a few moments in peaceful silence, sipping their wine, Elrond finally spoke. "How is it possible that Bilbo Baggins has returned? It is well known amongst ourselves that the Firstborn can return by the grace of Mandos. I have not heard of any other races given this gift, however."

 

Gandalf nodded. "I had heard of a small people who had been given the gift of rebirth. They are the children of Yavanna, a gift to her from Eru. They are precious to her, and in return, to Aulë, who had a hand in their creation. Most mistake them as descendants of Men, but that is vastly untrue. Part of their protection was that if they had a strong desire to return to Middle-Earth for whatever unfinished business they had, and Aulë found it appropriate, they would be allowed to be reborn to their families. They, like Elves, would retain their original features, growing up to look exactly as they had once. They would also regain their memories, though for Hobbits it seems to be very gradual over years, rather than mostly at once after adulthood.

 

"As to why Bilbo was chosen to return, I do not have an answer, though I can guess that it has something to do with the Dwarves of Erebor. Their parting was not a pleasant one, and he died most violently, and without a way to say goodbye to those he loved."

 

"I have heard what occurred prior to the battle from Legolas, who was there. I can imagine that ending would haunt him, though why he would wish to come and sooth the souls of those who treated him so ill..."

 

Gandalf raised his hand, staying Elrond's words. "Bilbo knew what he was doing when he gave the Arkenstone to Bard. He knew how Thorin would react, how ill he was. Thorin was not himself. Neither were Bard or Thranduil, for that matter. The dragon's filth had affected them all once they got near the Mountain. It was a desperate move to keep them safe and alive, _all of them,_ not just the Dwarves. He knew well that Thorin would not take it well. He told me himself that after the battle, he would do what he could to make amends.

 

"Unfortunately, that was not to be, because he died protecting the Durin line, Thorin and his nephews. They survived because Bilbo loved them enough to sacrifice himself for them." Gandalf closed his eyes to stay the tears that stung them. "You did not see Thorin when he brought in Bilbo's body. You did not see his anguish, or that of every single one of the Company. Thorin, Fíli, and Kíli in particular were inconsolable, and even now, they do not remain untouched by Bilbo's death.

 

"Whether or not they _deserve_ to have Bilbo return to them is immaterial. What is important to realize is that Bilbo loved _them_ enough and was desperate enough, that he was returned very shortly after he was killed. Why exactly? You would have to ask Aulë that."

 

Gandalf sighed. "I do know that his death was enough to knock the sense back into everyone, Dwarf, Elf, and Man alike. The dragon's filth and the gold sickness has not touched anyone who was there since. The Arkenstone was put away, only the Company knowing where it rests now. Bilbo's share of the treasure was given to Bard and Thranduil, and Thorin has tried very hard to maintain a civil relationship with the Elves of the Woodland Realm in honor of Bilbo."

 

"I remember Thorin's sister-sons. They were very bright lights among the group, full of cheer and goodwill. They did not share their Uncle's intense dislike of my people," Elrond murmured.

 

"Thorin himself did not hold the dislike and old grudges against your people prior to Smaug's attack on Erebor," Gandalf murmured. "It was only when he watched Thranduil and his people walk away, leaving him and his people without aid that turned him against your people. His mother died from burns and injuries that became infected, that had Thranduil helped them at all, she would not have perished from. There were many that died because of lack of healing. For that, he has learned to hate Thranduil and his people, and why he entirely distrusts your people. In essence, Thranduil taught him that every teaching he'd thought was wrong was essentially correct."

 

"That is unfortunate, though I can understand why he would think we're much the same, as we've fallen into the same trap. How many times are we discourteous because of what some Dwarves did back two Ages ago?" Erestor murmured.

 

"It does not help that Thranduil is an arrogant, bitter Elf," Glorfindel replied. "His father's death was unfortunate, but mostly of his own doing, as he chose to distance himself in the Last Alliance. Had he gone where they were supposed to, he may still be alive, and I do believe the Woodland Realm would have been better for it."

 

"Grudges are like noxious fumes," Gandalf said, looking at them all, knowing they sometimes too felt the old grudges stir. "They will poison your blood and body gradually until it kills you. Bilbo's death was not in vain. He prevented old allies from reopening old wounds, and he perhaps helped clear out some of that which festered.

 

"Now he wishes to go home, to Erebor. I will not stop him, and no one here will sway him. He is drawn to them, and that draw is very strong indeed."

 

Elrond nodded. "As I said, we will help him to get where he desires."

 

"And we will make it clear that we will be visiting often to see the young Hobbit," Elrohir added, the twins smirking at one another before looking at Gandalf with all the innocence of a group of young Tooks. He believed them as much as he believed Gerontius' children when they had insisted they weren't up to anything, and then proceeded to steal his fireworks, and set them off in the most unfortunate places.

 

"I am entirely certain Thorin will be thrilled to hear it," Gandalf said dryly, smiling a bit when the Elves all laughed.


	4. Erebor At Last

Fíli wandered around the Dale marketplace, looking for some trinket that could hopefully put a smile upon Kíli's face. He hadn't smiled much since the passing of Bilbo, and as much as the loss of the brave, sweet Halfling was painful to him, he knew it was nothing compared to what his brother felt. Bilbo had been his brother's One, though Kíli had been waiting to tell him until after Erebor had been reclaimed. Bilbo had gone to his death never knowing that Kíli had loved him, had wanted to Court him after Smaug was defeated and Erebor was theirs.

 

Now Kíli was but a shadow of himself, and Fíli feared that he would eventually fade. As it was, Fíli thought the only thing that kept him to this world was their mother, uncle, and Fíli himself.

 

At the edge of the marketplace, there was a booth run by Thranduil's people. They offered several types of weapons for sale, and he eyed a hunting bow which would fit Kíli's size perfectly. It was beautifully crafted and Fíli thought he would like it. Perhaps he could even coax Kíli into a hunting trip.

 

He had just made his purchase when he heard a high-pitched voice call out his name repeatedly. Turning, he looked down the pathway toward the sound, and as the few people in the way cleared, he saw Gandalf and Lord Elrond standing behind a small child, who was jumping up and down and waving.

 

"Fíli!" the child called again, and took off toward him at a run, startling the two adults behind him into following.

 

Fíli instinctively knelt down to catch the child before he sent them crashing into the stand behind them, and as he drew nearer, Fíli's heart began to pound. His breath quickened and his eyes began to sting, because he _knew_ that face. It was younger than he'd ever seen in life, but the curly hair the color of honey, the dancing deep blue eyes, and the sweet, sweet smile was still the same, no matter the age. He held his arms open in time for the little Hobbit to slam into him, and the tears finally fell as he sat down on his arse in the middle of the marketplace, holding on to the boy for dear life, as those around him gave them a bit of room and looked on curiously.

 

"How is this possible?" he asked brokenly as Gandalf and Lord Elrond surrounded them to protect them from being trampled by those who wouldn't see them and from the prying, curious eyes. For there was no doubt in his mind that it was Bilbo Baggins he was holding, child though he was, and the grief he'd been holding onto for so many years slowly began to lift.

 

"I once told you all that Hobbits were rather remarkable people. Young Bilbo here seems to be one of the more exceptional ones," Gandalf said kindly, smiling down at him.

 

"I'm sorry I got lost, Fíli," Bilbo said, leaning back to wrap his little hands around the braids in his mustache, a frown on his adorable face. "I won't go away again. I promise."

 

"Yes, well, I'm going to hold you to that promise," Fíli said roughly as he ran his hands over Bilbo's silky curls. "I know some people who will be so very happy to see you." Looking up at Gandalf, he murmured, "Kíli and Ori are around here someplace."

 

Gandalf nodded. "I will go and find them. Why don't you allow Elrond to escort you over to where our party is, and once I find the other two, we'll head to the Mountain?"

 

"Very well," Fíli said, allowing Bilbo to part from him only long enough for him to get up, scooping up the Hobbit and holding him close.

 

"His package, Lord Elrond," one of the Elves at the booth said, holding out the package that contained the bow. The Elves were looking at Bilbo in wonder, because all of them had by then heard of the bravery and sacrifice of the young Hobbit in the Battle of the Five Armies. After all, he had saved their King, in addition to the King of Erebor, as well as Thorin's heirs.

 

Elrond took it and put his free arm around Fíli, guiding him through the crowd to the outskirts, where Glorfindel, his sons,and several of their warriors awaited them, sitting on the ground and chatting merrily.

 

Fíli sat on a nearby log and set Bilbo in his lap, inspecting him more closely for any injuries he might have sustained on the road, and then pressing his face into his hair and breathing in his scent deeply. He smelled of flowers and a light scent that was the smell that all children of any given race had. All the while, Bilbo chattered merrily about his travels with the Elven party and Gandalf. Fíli, for his part, was content to sit there and let Bilbo chatter at him for days if he so desired.

 

"Is Thorin king now?" Bilbo asked him, looking up at him with great curiosity. "I remember he wanted to be king of his mountain."

 

"Yes, he is king now. You saved him, and he took the throne shortly after his injuries healed," Fíli told him. Gandalf had been the one to tell him of Bilbo's fall, but Bofur had confessed the grief that his uncle felt upon bringing Bilbo in. Fíli, for one, was grateful not to have seen it. Kíli's reaction had been as much pain as he could take.

 

"Is he still angry with me?" Bilbo asked, biting his bottom lip and gazing up at Fíli with worried, sorrowful eyes. "I remember him being angry and yelling. It hurt my feelings."

 

"No! No, Bilbo, he's not angry with you," he murmured into his hair as he pulled him close. "He was yelling because of the gold sickness, but he is well now. You coming back to Erebor will be the greatest gift he could receive."

 

A sound in the distance caught his attention, and Fíli looked up to see Gandalf and Ori guiding Kíli toward them. It seemed Gandalf had broken the news already to his brother, who looked as though he was unable to stand on his own. Shock was written all over his face and tears stained his cheeks. When Kíli finally looked up and his eyes connected with his brother's, Fíli smiled and nodded, answering the question he knew his brother was asking.

 

That seemed to be all Kíli needed. He broke away from Gandalf and Ori, running as fast as his feet could manage until he skidded to a stop in front of his brother. Dropping to his knees, Kíli reached up with a shaking hand to touch Bilbo's face as the Hobbit turned toward him.

 

"Hello, Kíli," Bilbo said, smiling brightly at him.

 

"Bilbo," Kíli sobbed brokenly, taking him from his brother's arms and holding him tightly, his face buried in the Hobbit's short curls. "I've missed you so."

 

The deep emotions of the others around him were finally too much for little Bilbo, and he burst into tears himself and wrapped his arms around Kíli's neck in a vice grip, apologizing over and over for getting lost. Fíli, for his part, simply slid to the ground and wrapped his arms around them both, pulling them close as he leaned against the log, motioning for Ori to join them.

 

Ori sat next to Kíli and leaned against him, resting his head on Bilbo's side, tears falling silently down his face, but his heart much happier than it had been. He and Bofur had found love and comfort in one another, but the loss of Bilbo had always been keenly felt, for the Halfling had been a dear, dear friend of Bofur's. Ori had been extremely fond of him as well, as Bilbo was always happy to discuss things that Ori found interesting and always had an entertaining tale to share about the Shire-folk.

 

Gandalf sighed softly and moved away from the group, content to leave them be for the moment, and sat amongst the Elves, keeping an eye out for anyone who would dare to infringe on the moment the four of them were having.

 

~*~

 

Three hours later, as they neared the Mountain, Fíli smiled at the changes in his brother in such a short time. Gone were the deep shadows of grief that plagued him. Once he'd cried himself out, a smile had plastered itself upon his face, and he hadn't stopped grinning since. His spirits were high, and he laughed and joked as he did before that fateful day, almost as if the past twelve years had never happened. But still, Fíli could see the lingering panic every time Bilbo, who was riding in front of Gandalf, would lean over too quickly, pointing out something he noticed.

 

Gandalf noticed as well, for he chuckled. "You'll get used to it, Kíli. He's quite inquisitive, and rather fearless. Do you know that when I found him, he was on his way to Erebor? He had managed to get from Tuckborough to the other side of Bree all by himself, with his little pack and his little wagon."

 

Kíli's eyes went wide. "He was on his own?"

 

"Yes, he was. My heart nearly gave out thinking about what might have happened if I had not run across him. Indeed I might not have, if he hadn't fallen while trying to get his wagon's wheel out of a hole."

 

Kíli groaned in distress and looked at his brother. "He's going to be worse than both of us combined, isn't he?"

 

Fíli grinned. "Aye, likely so. At least take comfort in knowing he was so determined to get back here to us that he likely won't ever try to run away from here."

 

"Oddly enough, that does not help," Kíli said with a sigh, but his eyes were dancing merrily. "Though on the good side of things, he may have the ability to turn Uncle's hair completely white."

 

"As soon as we get home, I'm going down to drag Bofur and Bifur up from their shop. Where do we all want to meet?" Ori asked.

 

"Let's meet in Uncle Thorin's sitting room in his chambers. It's the biggest and will fit us all easily," Fíli said. "It's going to be emotional enough for Bilbo as it is. No need to subject him to a bunch of Dwarrows he does not know."

 

Ori nodded and smiled when he saw Dwalin off in the distance, waiting for them at the gates. "Guess he'll be seeing one he does know sooner than we thought."

 

Kíli rolled his eyes as he saw Dwalin waiting for them. He'd been so protective the last twelve years, and Kíli had been grateful for it, even though the warrior was a little too overbearing from time to time. But he also knew part of it was Thorin's orders, so he never made a big deal out of it. He was likely annoyed because they'd sneaked out of the Mountain and went to Dale without him.

 

"Dwalin!" Ori shouted as they drew close, waving at him. "We come bearing gifts!"

 

Dwalin rolled his eyes but then his eyes drifted over to Gandalf, and the child held before him. The others smiled as the King's Guard's arms loosened from across his chest and then fell to his sides, his face going slack and mouth dropping open. "It can't be," he said gruffly as Gandalf came to a halt and slipped off the horse, putting the Hobbit child down on the ground.

 

The child stepped forward and bowed deeply. "Bilbo Baggins, at your service, Mr. Dwalin."

 

Looking at Fíli and Kíli for confirmation, both of whom gladly gave it, Dwalin dropped to his knees and put his hand over his heart, his voice hoarse as he said, "Dwalin, son of Fundin, forever at yours, Master Bilbo."

 

Giggling, Bilbo threw himself into Dwalin's arms and peppered the old warrior's face with kisses. Dwalin wrapped his arms around the boy and stood, taking Bilbo with him.

 

"I remember you," Bilbo told him, his little fingers reaching up to trace some of his scars. "You ate my fish and threw cheese on the floor."

 

"Well, yes, but it was riddled with mold," Dwalin replied, smiling through his tears at the remembrance.

 

"It was supposed to be, silly. It was blue cheese!" Bilbo replied, hugging him again. "Can we go inside now? I want to see the others."

 

"We were planning to take him to the King's chambers and call for the others. I fear the reunion for Thorin and he will be rather emotional, and we don't want it to be too stressful for Bilbo," Fíli said, reaching up to run a hand over Bilbo's back.

 

Dwalin nodded and reluctantly handed him over to Kíli, who was waiting patiently. "Go. I will call for Thorin and Balin and the others. They're in a meeting with some idiot Thranduil sent. I think he's being deliberately ignorant on Thranduil's orders, in retaliation for Legolas and Gimli's friendship. They'll be grateful for the intervention."

 

Kíli nodded and whisked the boy inside, Ori and Gandalf close on his heels.

 

Fíli turned to Elrond. "I will have your people escorted to the guest chambers. I believe you will understand if we wait for formal greetings with King Thorin until tomorrow?"

 

Elrond smiled and nodded at him. "Of course, Prince Fíli. We merely came to escort little Bilbo home and are in no need of a audience until King Thorin is ready. We have had many days with Bilbo, and I do believe after everything, all of you will need a few days to come to terms with his return."

 

Fíli bowed to Lord Elrond and motioned for a few of the Dwarrows to assist the Elves in finding their rooms, and then returned his attention to the Elf. "If you need anything, please ring, and feel free to look about the kingdom. Just stay out of the mines and heed the signs. There are many places that are still unstable and have not been repaired. Thorin would be quite annoyed if you were to take a fall. After dealing with Thranduil for twelve years, you're easily his favorite Elf."

 

Elrond and the others laughed loudly at that and Fíli left them with a final wave, running off towards Thorin's chambers. He found Kíli and Gandalf sitting around the fire, talking softly, their eyes following Bilbo as he poked about Thorin's rooms.

 

Fíli wandered over and wedged himself into the seat next to his brother, resting his head on Kíli's shoulder. "How fare you, brother?"

 

Kíli leaned his head against Fíli's. "I have no words for what I'm feeling right now," he murmured. "Above everything, I am grateful that the Valar were kind enough to send him back to us, so we could make amends for the wrongs that were done. Anything else will sort itself in time, and I am content to sit back and watch him grow once more into the Hobbit we once knew. But he is to never know who he is to me. I will not influence the choices he makes in life, even if he looks to choose someone else. Are we in agreement?"

 

"We are, brother. Do you think he will be the same?" he asked Gandalf.

 

"Mmm," Gandalf murmured as he lit his pipe. "I daresay in some ways he will still be Bilbo, what with his memories that seem to be returning, albeit slowly. In others, he will be quite different. He's but eleven and in Erebor, is he not?"

 

Fíli nodded, understanding what Gandalf was saying. "Aye, 'tis true. Being raised by Dwarrows will do that."

 

Kíli's chin raised at that. "And he will be raised here. We will not have him wander off elsewhere. We will not send him off for him to languish or be harmed by others that will not love him as we do, because clearly he did not have the love and affection a young boy deserves, if he was found wandering hundreds of miles from his home."

 

"I agree with you on that, Kíli," Gandalf said, glancing over at Bilbo, who was peeking into another room. "I daresay another would have a time getting him out of your grasp, now that he finds himself here. I would not want to be the one to try it."

 

There was a scuffle outside the door with a bit of muffled yelling, and then it burst open, with Ori all but shoving Bifur and Bofur into the room. "Aye, love, we're moving! We're moving!" Bofur said to Ori, turning his head to glare at him. "What's the rush, and why are we in Thorin's rooms? What is going on with you?"

 

Ori simply smiled and pointed over to the other side of the room, where Bilbo was looking at the two newcomers with wide eyes full of laughter.

 

"Is that a Hobbit?" Bofur asked, all resistance going out of him. "A Hobbit child? What in the world? Why is there a Hobbit child here in Erebor?"

 

"You still have your hat. You were the one who told me all about Smaug. The 'chieftest and greatest cal- cal-'"

 

Bofur moved forward carefully, as though a sudden movement would spook him and he would disappear. "Calamity."

 

"Thank you, Bofur. I couldn't remember the word."

 

Bofur sat on the floor heavily in front of him and breathed out, "Bilbo."

 

Bilbo smiled and bowed. "At your service." Then he stepped forward and reached out, tweaking Bofur's thick mustache and giggling.

 

"Bilbo Baggins!" Bofur said, shouting and laughing through his tears as he reached out and pulled the Hobbit to him, holding him tightly, as he listened to his cousin yelling excitedly behind him in Khuzdul. "Laddie, you've come home!"

 

"I wanted to see you again," Bilbo said, clinging to his neck. "Hello, Bifur."

 

Bofur let Bilbo go so that Bifur could sweep him up in his arms and do a little dance around the room as he chattered against Bilbo's cheek.

 

Bofur pulled Ori down to sit with him and slung an arm around his husband's shoulders, the both of them laughing through their tears at Bifur and Bilbo, who seemed to be having the time of his life. That was how the rest of the company, including Thorin, found them a few minutes later when they came inside.

 

"What the blazes is going on in here?" Thorin yelled, causing everyone to stop what they were doing, all eyes turning in their direction.

 

It was Bombur of all the rest who immediately recognized the little Hobbit in his cousin's arms. Shoving everyone out of the way, including the King, who tumbled into and was caught by Dwalin, Bombur bounded over to his cousin, yelling, "Bilbo!" and sweeping him out of Bifur's arms to press kisses against his hair.

 

After a brief few moments where the others stood there in a stupor, they all, save Thorin, rushed over and began passing Bilbo around, greeting him with hugs and kisses and chattering excitedly, asking questions of Gandalf and the others already in the room, each of them assessing that Bilbo was indeed well and uninjured.

 

Thorin, for his part, stared, as if he feared it was some sort of cruel joke, that he dare not hope that the others were correct.

 

Gandalf wandered over to his friend and laid his hand on Thorin's shoulder. "It is him, Thorin. Of that none of us have any doubt."

 

Thorin swallowed heavily and looked up at Gandalf, his blue eyes glistening. "I don't understand."

 

"I will explain in due course. For now, enjoy this moment." Gandalf smiled at him. "After all, he traveled all this way just to come _home._ "

 

Thorin moved into the middle of the room and fell to his knees as Dwalin stole Bilbo from his brother in spite of Balin's protests, setting him on his feet, facing Thorin. "Bilbo Baggins," Thorin said, his voice thick and hoarse with emotion. "It's about time you decided to come home. You are very late."

 

Bilbo huffed and put his hands on his hips. "I came as soon as I could. It's not an easy business, running away and trying to find your way across the Wild." Then he tilted his head. "Fíli says you're not angry with me anymore."

 

At those words, tears streamed down Thorin's face unchecked, but he smiled through them and shook his head. "No, my wonderful, beautiful little burglar, I am not angry with you. Never again."

 

Bilbo grinned and ran to him, flinging his arms around Thorin's neck. Thorin pulled him into his lap as he sat down fully and buried his face in Bilbo's soft, sweet-smelling curls as his sobs wracked his body.

 

Kíli felt his eyes fill with tears as he watched the scene before him, and he leaned into his brother, who cried silently at his side. While Kíli had been devastated beyond measure, it was his uncle who felt the severe burden of immense guilt at the death of their burglar. While he had ruled in the years following with kindness and compassion (unless dealing with Thranduil...then it was with mere tolerance), he had not done so with joy, finding that reclaiming their home had come at a price too heavy for his own soul.

 

The Arkenstone, after being returned by Bard and Thranduil, was buried in the tomb with their burglar, none of them ever wishing to set eyes upon the dreadful stone again.

 

There was no one in the room who did not understand that the gift they'd been given was one beyond all measure. None of them felt they truly deserved it, but all of them were willing to take it and hang onto it with everything they had, even if it might be considered selfish by others.

 

They would go to war with anyone who dared try to take their Hobbit away from them now.

 

~*~

 

Many hours passed, along with a grand dinner Bombur and several of the others went to fetch for them, and darkness fell. Along with it went Bilbo, who was exhausted from the traveling and the emotional scenes of the day. He was currently curled up in Thorin's lap, while he sat on one of the long couches, between Dwalin and Kíli. Fíli sat on the floor in front of his brother, content to let him play with his hair. All the others were scattered about the room, and no matter the conversation, their eyes inevitably strayed to Bilbo, as though he might suddenly disappear.

 

"Tell us what you know of this, Gandalf," Thorin said finally after conversation had all but died down.

 

Gandalf lit his pipe and thought for a moment. "While you Dwarrows are children of Mahal, Hobbits are the children of Yavanna, his wife, a gift to her from Eru, much like the Ents, though this fact is largely unknown to most. Most everyone thinks they're some sort of descendant of Men. The Hobbits know but do not talk of it to outsiders, and will lie about it if they are pressed, for they do not wish to be burdened by the Big Folk who wish to gain favor from Yavanna in their own lands, as had happened long ago. They are a people of the land, of growing things, and are most beloved by her and Mahal, who made his mark upon them by helping them to delve into the earth for their homes, for protection from the elements and others who were bigger than they.

 

"As part of their protection, it was rumored that they too, like the Elves, were given the gift of Rebirth. It did not often happen. Only in great need or desire to return to Middle-Earth would a Hobbit return. Hobbits...when they pass, they find themselves within the great halls of your father, as he pledged to care for them after life was over, much as he pledged to care for the Dwarrows. And only there could a Hobbit make a plea to return."

 

Gandalf looked at young Bilbo and chuckled. "I know I told a few of you this, but I found young Bilbo here on the other side of Bree. His parents had died some years before, and he grew tired of his position as a foundling in a family with too many cousins. He was on his way to Rivendell, so he could get help from Lord Elrond to come here."

 

Thorin glanced down at Bilbo and then stared at Gandalf in horror. "He was on his own? He's so small, far too small to be out by himself!"

 

"Yes, he was, but nevertheless, he'd made it halfway across the Shire and past Bree before I came upon him. I daresay I would have missed him if his little wagon hadn't become stuck in a rabbit hole. I heard him and went running, for I had no idea what I would find, and there he was.

 

"I had heard the rumors of course of the Halfling's gift, but never paid it much heed, as I'd never met one who had returned. It didn't take much to convince me however that this was indeed Bilbo Baggins, and he was most determined to come home to Erebor, to his Company."

 

Gandalf puffed on his pipe for a few moments and then blew a smoke ring and watched it float across the air. "It wasn't until Rivendell that I slept and had a dream, in which Mahal himself explained why Bilbo returned. Apparently when he got there, Bilbo was most cross. He did not appreciate his death _at_ _all,_ and he knew how horribly you all would take it, and he demanded that he needed to go back right that moment, and Mahal wouldn't like what he would do if it didn't happen."

 

Gandalf chuckled. "Apparently Mahal didn't heed his warnings and act quickly enough, and...well, let's just say that you do not want to infuriate a Hobbit by ignoring their requests when they deem them of the utmost importance. I don't think Mahal will ever be quite the same again. It's been twelve years, and he still isn't entirely certain how Bilbo managed to convince Manwë to hide his tools. He still hasn't found all of them."

 

Everyone erupted into low laughs at that, ever mindful of the sleeping child.

 

"So Mahal did give us the greatest gift he could," Thorin murmured, placing a kiss on the top of Bilbo's head. "He stays here with us. I will trust no one else to care for him the way we will. He is ours, and I won't see him whisked away, back to where he is not loved the way he should be, nor to the Elves, who will not cherish him as we will."

 

"I agree with you, and as I told your nephews, I doubt you would be able to get Bilbo to leave willingly. He was prepared to come here by himself, after all." Gandalf sighed. "It is getting late, and I am quite tired. I am not equipped to handle a vibrant, energetic child for months at a time. I am an old man and need my rest. I trust you will find a place to bed Bilbo."

 

"He will stay with me," Thorin said before anyone else could offer.

 

Gandalf chuckled but nodded. "As you wish. I will have his things sent up. He has nightclothes Elrond had made for him in his pack. I believe they will do until your own people can outfit him with clothing better suited for the Mountain."

 

Thorin nodded his head and watched as Gandalf and the others, save Dwalin, Fíli, and Kíli, left the room, though they did so reluctantly. When he saw the stubborn lift of his nephews' chins, he chuckled. "You may pull in a mattress from the second bedroom and put it on the floor near the fireplace."

 

Dwalin chuckled as he watched the two jump up and run to fetch the bedding. "I can't say that I blame them."

 

"No, neither can I." He looked down at the sleeping child and sighed contentedly. "We did so wrong by him there at the end, blamed him when he made a desperate move to save us from ourselves, and then he still stayed in spite of my words and gave his life so we might live. How do we even begin to repay that depth of love and loyalty?"

 

"We give him everything he needs: love, attention, a good, safe home. We treat him as precious as we would a Dwarfling of our own blood. It is the very least of what he deserves," Dwalin said, reaching out to stroke Bilbo's curls. "We show him everything we couldn't bring ourselves to show him because of our pride and stubbornness."

 

He leaned over and kissed the top of Bilbo's head and then stood. "I will take my leave of you now. Call for me if you need anything."

 

"I will," Thorin said, nodding at Dwalin. Then he watched with some amusement as Fíli and Kíli came out of the bedroom, dragging along the heavy mattress while trying not to knock anything over. It took them a bit of doing, but they finally disappeared into Thorin's bedroom.

 

When they came back out, a knock sounded on the door. "Kíli, get the door," Thorin said, standing up with Bilbo. "If it is anyone other than your mother or one of the Company, tell them I will see them tomorrow." He walked into the bedroom and pulled back the blankets on the bed, laying the tiny boy down.

 

Hearing footsteps, he turned to see his sister walk in, travel bags in her hands. "Elrond's people sent these up with me. I went to greet them properly, and they told me of what has occurred," she said, moving into the room and peering over Thorin's shoulder. "So this is your burglar."

 

Thorin all but beamed at her, apparently shocking her with the depth of emotion he was showing. Even he knew he had been a pale shadow of himself, and she had been worried about him for several years. "Yes, it is. Mahal has given us another chance, as much as we do not deserve it."

 

Dis pulled him into a tight hug. "He has. Do not ruin it this time." Then she pulled back and opened the bags. "Let's see what we have in here. Elrond said something about nightclothes that he loves and should be warm enough."

 

She pulled out several shirts and a few pairs of breeches before she found what she was looking for. The tunic and loose breeches were of a burgundy color, made of the same soft material as the robes Elrond had been wearing. The material was thick and would do well. "Very nice. We should see about material like this for more nightclothes for him."

 

Thorin nodded and began removing Bilbo's clothes and putting on the nightclothes, which was easy, considering all the practice he'd had when his nephews were younger. "Why did you not come up earlier?"

 

Dis smiled at him as she helped him with the breeches. "I believed you and the others needed the evening to reconnect with the Hobbit. I did not wish to take time away from your reunion, when I knew he would be here his entire life and there would be time enough for me tomorrow."

 

She eyed her brother slyly. "I knew, once I was told how he was attempting to get here on his own, that he would not be leaving again. You would not allow it at any rate. Neither would Kíli."

 

Thorin frowned at that. "And you singled him out because?"

 

"Ah. He never told you then. Bilbo Baggins was his One...is his One. He had planned on courting him formally after the reclamation. Unfortunately..."

 

Thorin's shoulders slumped and he hung his head. "My actions caused such grief."

 

"And now it is over. True, he may have to wait some time, but Kíli is a good and patient boy when it comes to what he truly wants. He would have courted him, but we both know it would have been young for him to begin courtship. He's still a bit too young by our standards. By the time Bilbo is ready, Kíli will also be truly ready for it. Until then he will be content to watch the child grow up and will love him as one should love a child. Perhaps help him get into a little mischief now and again, along with Fíli."

 

"Mahal help us all," Thorin said with a chuckle. He knew his nephew well, and had no worries.

 

"We took the bedding off the other bed as well," Fíli said as he and Kíli came in half buried in blankets, furs, and pillows.

 

"Otherwise, it will be cold even through the mattress," Kíli added, dropping his burdens off to the side, before piling his half on the mattress, and then piling on his pillows. Then he dropped a kiss on his mother's cheek. "I'll be back. Need to change."

 

Fíli piled on his own furs, blankets and pillows and did as Kíli did, leaving brother and sister alone.

 

Dis looked down at the boy. "So you will be raising him yourself?"

 

"With your help and the help of my company, yes," Thorin said, stroking Bilbo's head before looking for his own nightclothes. "He was my friend, one of my dearest companions, and in my madness, I treated him terribly. I loved him, and I hurt him deeply, and still he saved the lives of myself and Fíli and Kíli. He gave his life for me, for us. To do any less would be to heap even more dishonor onto him."

 

"And do you _want_ to?" Dis asked, needing to know, though she suspected the answer.

 

" _Yes_ ," Thorin said, his voice rough. "I will not have children of my own. You know this. I never found my One, and I always wanted a child. Already I love him as if he were my own. I felt much the same before, though he needed me not as he was an adult, which makes my actions even more shameful. I will not fail him again."

 

"We will all help in any way we can," Dis promised him, kissing his temple. "Now get some rest. I have a feeling you will need it come morning."

 

Thorin chuckled. "Goodnight, sister."

 

After she left, Thorin readied himself for sleep, and by the time he re-entered his bedroom, Fíli and Kíli were snuggled and entwined together on the bedding near the fire, as they had done since Bilbo's death. Thorin knew it had started and continued for both Kíli's comfort in his grief and Fíli's fear that something would happen to Kíli. Of course, now Thorin realized that Fíli feared his brother's fading without family nearby at all times. It also helped explain why the two of them would often end up in the beds of him, Dis, Balin, and Dwalin frequently in their need to assure themselves the rest of the family was well.

 

Smiling softly, Thorin slid into bed and pulled Bilbo closer, burying his nose in the soft curls as Bilbo burrowed his face in Thorin's neck and sighed softly.

 

Their family was complete again.


	5. Epilogue - Twenty-two Years Later

Bilbo moved around the tombs, shivering slightly. Part of it was from the cool air and being so deep within the Mountain, but another part was being surrounded by the dead. It wasn't as though he thought they were going to suddenly jump out to frighten him or anything, but it was eerie, the silence and the darkness.

 

What he was looking for was found soon enough, and he rested his lantern on top of the tomb. Staring at the tomb, he smiled, and he moved around the side to run his fingers over the name carved into it.

 

_Bilbo Baggins_

 

Yesterday had been his thirty-third birthday, his official coming of age. And with it came the last of the memories of his old life, many of them dealing with his final days, and even beyond, in the great Halls of Aulë and the rather large temper tantrum he'd had, which had caught the attention of _all_ the Valar.

 

He idly wondered if Aulë ever discovered where all of his tools were hidden.

 

His memories were all there now, but once they were, they faded into the background. He would always have the knowledge of who he was before, but who he was now was far more important. He was a Hobbit child who had found his family with thirteen Dwarrows, raised by them and those who had been pulled into that precious circle of fourteen: siblings, parents, wives, husbands and children that were already there or had come along throughout the years. And of course, Gandalf and the Elves who just couldn't stay away for any real length of time, much to Thorin's irritation.

 

The sound of boots broke him from his musings and he smiled when strong arms wrapped around his chest. Speaking of husbands...

 

Kíli pressed a kiss to his head. "What are you doing down here, love?"

 

"All my memories came back last night, after we fell asleep. I suppose I just wanted to pay respects to the person I used to be," Bilbo said, leaning back against him. "How did you know where I was?"

 

"Bofur saw you coming down this way, and let me know when I asked if he knew where you were," Kíli replied.

 

"Is there something you needed?" Bilbo asked.

 

"Just you. We were married yesterday, after all. I had hoped we would spend the first few days of our marriage abed," Kíli said, and then he nipped at the pointed tip of Bilbo's ear.

 

A loud snort erupted throughout the massive chamber. "Yes, because Fíli and Bofur would not have disabused us of that notion at some point today."

 

"True, but then Fíli would be scarred and blinded for life, and Bofur would have led him out with a laugh and a plan to tell Ori all of what he saw, and then we would have our peace. Besides, we have courted for two years, and behaved ourselves as required the entire time," Kíli said, and leaned over slightly and pressed a kiss to Bilbo's neck. "I want to spend a few days debauching each other thoroughly in the most delightful ways."

 

Bilbo reached out once more to run his fingers over his name, saying goodbye to the Hobbit Bungo and Belladonna had raised, and then he turned around and smiled at his husband, his future. "All right then. But I get to thoroughly wreck you first this time."

 

Grinning, Kíli pulled him along, and Bilbo reached out and grabbed the lantern and let his husband lead him back home.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: This is the main story for this particular prompt, but there will be several timestamps/short stories/perhaps longer stories written in this universe, as I decide which ones I want to write. (Yes, I do plan on Bilbo asking that special question of Glóin, in front of everyone.)


End file.
